Darkness Revisited 1
by ymanoed
Summary: Picks up where Pitch Black leaves off. New twists and turns with new characters. Normal disclaimers... I don't own Jack, Riddick, or Imam. Everything else is mine, however.


Riddick piloted the skiff for hours, oblivious to his exhaustion, oblivious to the wounds he'd suffered. He refused when Imam suggested he rest. He didn't want to close his altered eyes. He was afraid of the images he'd see there waiting for him in the darkness.   
  
Fear. It was a concept new to him... something of which he'd never been on the receiving end. He tried not to think of their last minutes on that forsaken planet... the rain... the mud... the creatures that saw in the dark almost better than he did... and death. Until now, he'd always been the bringer of it, and it had never bothered him. But these terrible creatures were death personified; they cloaked themselves in it. It was as if they'd reached out and taken death from Riddick's grasp. But that's not all they'd taken...  
  
Fry. She'd taught him more in a brief few hours than any prison's feeble attempt at rehabilitation ever had. Her single act of sacrifice left him with a myriad of emotions he thought the animal in him had long since devoured. She was all he could think of. Why? Had it not been for him, she'd be alive. She was the only thing he didn't want to leave in the darkness. Everything else he detested, everything he wished to wrench himself from, he left to the creatures on that planet. And now he felt responsible for the two other survivors sharing this craft with him. They must live at all costs, or Fry died for nothing. He owed her that, even though he didn't particularly care for them. Their only kinship was the ordeal they'd shared. That in itself was an irrevocable bond, and maybe in time he would grow to like them.   
  
A rustling from behind drew his attention. There was Jack, curled up in a tight ball next to Imam. She was trying to make herself even smaller, if that was possible. It wasn't and in her sub-conscious state she gave up. Both were sleeping, no doubt dreaming. Riddick suddenly became aware of his own need for sleep. Even though he still didn't want to close his eyes, his body overrode all mental protests and dipped him into a fitful slumber. To sleep...   
  
He stood atop a bluff overlooking the valley of bleached bones... bones belonging to colossal, extinct animals. Fry stood next to him, and the strange, unfamiliar sensation he felt was simply her hand holding his. The wind blew, but only lightly. The sun beat down on them, but not relentlessly. Then without warning the darkness came and brought with it the creatures. Their sonar chirps encircled them almost at once, but he couldn't see them. He remembered his goggles covering his eyes and tried to tear them from his head, but they wouldn't come off. The chirps grew louder and took on an eerie, almost mechanical nature, and still he couldn't see. Fry never left him; her hand simply gripped his more tightly. The chirps grew more menacing, more frequent, more repetitive...   
  
"Riddick! Wake up!" Jack screamed. She shook him with urgency. The alarm beeped loudly in the small interior of the craft. She didn't know how to stop it, or what was causing it. She shook him again, this time with all her strength. He came to violently and rushed at her with lightning speed, his knife poised to kill. She stumbled backward and over Imam who yelled protests and prayers all in one breath. Finally, she let out a desperate scream that stopped him. He stood there, confusion covering his usually stoic face as he stared down at the small pile that was Jack and Imam. Realization finally replaced the confusion and he rushed back to the pilot's seat to assess the alarm. The fuel cells were running low. Shit.   
  
There were no noises from the holy man and the skinny girl. Yet, Riddick felt them crouched directly behind his seat, waiting for something... waiting for the alarm to stop... waiting for him to tell them why it relentlessly beeped... but they said nothing. They barely breathed. He'd scared them into silence. Good, he thought. I'll have to remember that when I want some peace and quiet.  
  
"The fuel cells are low," he said as he began to flip switches and adjust instruments. The alarm mercifully ceased.  
  
"What does that mean?" Jack panicked.   
  
"That means we conserve energy and find the nearest place to land this heap." Riddick replied. Even though she was not completely comforted by his answer, Jack didn't say anything else.  
  
"Is there anything close-by where we can set down?" asked Imam. In his voice was heard the concern all three of them felt. Would they have to risk going back to that awful planet?  
  
"I'm workin' on it," was Riddick's gritty reply. That silenced everything.  
  
Jack saw the muscles twitch in Riddick's neck. He was tense. It didn't take a genius to see that. She didn't like it, but there was nothing she could do... nothing she dared to do. It put her on edge, but she trusted him even after he'd nearly killed her only moments ago. After all, he'd come back for them, hadn't he? He'd beaten the odds. He'd survived. She admired his survival instinct, was even fascinated by it, but had finally learned when to shut up and watch him. She gained more knowledge from his body language than a thousand questions could ever answer.   
  
Questions... sarcasm... they had been her best defense mechanisms. Now, her days of being a bratty smart-ass were over. Hell, "Jack" was over. She had only become "Jack B. Badd" because Jacqueline B. Good had always been mistaken for a boy anyway. That was all over now. Now she was different. She was ready to simply be, and that meant not hiding behind a boy's face, a boy's clothing, a shaved head. The boy she'd pretended to be died on that planet along with the Riddick that Johns wanted to keep in lock up... along with Fry and the others... She had to move past this. Surviving. Living. That was all that mattered now.  
  
She looked over at Imam. This holy man certainly didn't know how to hide his emotions. He was obviously worried. Any minute he would assume the "praying position", as she liked to call it, and try to encourage her to do the same. Maybe this time she'd join him. The prayers certainly couldn't hurt, and it wasn't as if she could better spend her time doing something useful. So she waited... But he never asked. He never assumed the "position". Odd. She hoped he wasn't losing his faith. They couldn't have that. She stared at him, trying to fathom what must be going on behind that mask of worry. It was no use. She didn't have enough experience trying to read people, so she gave up. If and when he asked her to pray with him, she would. That was the extent of it. Out of a sense of boredom, or maybe it was the necessity to forget the events of the past 24 hours, she began prowling around the skiff. Hopefully she'd find something to amuse herself and keep her mind off the fuel cells.  
  
Imam felt the girl's eyes on him. She must be terribly traumatized, he thought. Maybe I should pray with her. No, no. I will wait. We will see what happens. He himself was very concerned. True, they'd put considerable distance between themselves and that wretched planet, but now here they were in the middle of space with no prospective places to land... and very little fuel, apparently. It was not exactly what he called hopeful. Yet, he still believed his god would protect them. It was obvious the hand of the Almighty had been on them this far. He found it difficult to believe God would deliver them from such terrible creatures only to let them die in a craft that had run out of fuel. The girl began to occupy herself with some investigation of their temporary home, and he allowed his head to fall back and his eyes to close. Such horror he'd never thought he'd see, and yet he had... and yet it was behind him. Even in such a tragedy, he could give thanks. He prayed silently to himself.  
  
Two days passed this way. Each survivor contemplated his or her own future and how the crash on that wretched planet had changed everything they held to be true. Each lulled in and out of sleep. Each fought their own demons in their dreams. Imam, of course, believed the hand of God had saved him, saved them all. Riddick felt it was simply another escape from the inevitability of death. Except this time someone had taken his place, and he hadn't put her intentionally in the position to do so. Jack. She was a different story. A textbook case of survivor's guilt, she repeatedly told herself to be glad she lived but couldn't get past the deaths of every passenger on the Hunter-Gratzner.  
  
And then someone answered their distress signal.  
  
"Emergency Vessel this is the LaPage Way Station. Repeat. This is the LaPage Way Station." The three hungry and weary travelers jumped at the sound of the crackling but obviously working transmitter.  
  
"Holy shit! We're saved!" Jack beamed. Imam gave her a cross look for her cursing.  
  
"This is Emergency Vessel," Riddick's voice replied. His face remained expressionless. "Requesting permission to dock. We're in need of medical attention. And we could use some food." The Way Station came into fuzzy view on a tiny screen in the control panel.  
  
"Roger that. You wouldn't happen to be from the Hunter-Gratzner, would you?" There was obvious excitement in her voice. Riddick couldn't begin to wonder why.  
  
"That would be us," he replied warily.  
  
"How many of you survived?"   
  
This ain't normal, Riddick thought. "Three." There was silence.  
  
"Would Pilot Second-Class Carolyn Fry happen to be with you?"  
  
What the? Was that hope he heard in her voice? A dozen scenarios flitted through Riddick's over cautious brain as he searched for an acceptable answer. He found none and gave the truth. "No."  
  
There was a longer pause than before. He wondered what was going on. "LaPage? Are you there?" The pause continued a few moments longer, and just when he was about to check the transmitter for problems, it squawked back into life.  
  
"Proceed to docking bay five-two-zero," came a very controlled voice. "Stand by for further instructions."  
  
"Roger." Riddick was puzzled but didn't let it show. He was a pro at not letting things show.  
  
"What was all that about," asked Jack. She was puzzled and didn't care if anyone knew.  
  
"Don't know, but they didn't ask about 'Richard B. Riddick'. That's all I care about," Riddick replied, but he was trying to convince himself of that very thing. If they knew Carolyn piloted the Hunter, then they had to know who else was aboard. That meant they knew about him. A familiar sense of extreme caution washed itself over Riddick's entire body. "Okay. Listen up, and I don't care if this little white lie goes against what you believe, Holy Man. This ruse just might save your ass. When we get aboard, I'm Johns and Riddick died on that planet. Got it?"  
  
"Well, duh." Jack caught herself from further sarcasm when Riddick shot her an angry glance. "That was my plan all along," she stammered. The men were not convinced, so she shut up.   
  
"Well, Holy Man?"  
  
"I will follow this plan. But if you shed innocent blood, Mr. Riddick, I will not comply." Imam was boldly going where only Johns and Fry had gone; he was defying Riddick... and Riddick had killed Johns, at least in spirit.  
  
The muscles twitched in Riddick's neck. "I'll do what needs to be done. If you wanna survive, I suggest you do the same." His voice was low and almost menacing, but it was clear he had no intentions of harming Imam. He simply wanted his point clear. The brief silence told him it was.  
  
The transmitter came to life once again. This time a man's voice greeted them with further instructions regarding docking procedures. Where'd the woman go? With no time to fully ponder that, Riddick simply piloted the skiff to the directed location. It still remained in the back of his mind like a splinter just under the surface of his skin. He could still feel it, but it could be left unattended... for now.   
  
Approximately 30 minutes later a very battered 'Emergency Vessel' containing only three survivors set down in docking bay five-two-zero. Goggles and shiv in their respective places, Riddick stood and followed Imam and Jack down the back ramp. For the two who were not escaped convicted murderers, it was good to be out of the tiny life boat that had sustained them for over three days. For Riddick, things had just stepped up a notch.  
  
They were greeted by several men and one oddly displaced young woman. Obviously, not much traffic came this way. Better for me, Riddick thought. Upon seeing him exit the craft, the crew thinly veiled their own caution with smiles and handshakes and introductions. "I'm Robert Sanders," one man offered. "Commander of the Ranger-LaPage Way Station. Welcome aboard."  
  
"Johns," was Riddick's reply. He hesitated to shake the Commander's hand but knew he needed to keep up the façade. He made it a point never to touch people in a social way. It made it harder for him to think of them as just expenditures... or prey. "This is Jack and Imam." He motioned to his companions. "Thanks for taking us in. We've had a helluva ride the past few days."  
  
"I can imagine you have. I understand you survived the Hunter-Gratzner crash?" They began walking away from the skiff and out of the docking bay. Only the woman stayed behind, apparently to assess the skiff. Don't like that, Riddick thought. But they were all herded in the same direction. Imam and Jack walked just in front of him.  
  
"Yeah, I guess you could say we did."  
  
"Only the three of you?"   
  
"Yep. Just us."  
  
"And what of your... cargo?" The question prickled the hairs on Riddick's neck. Perhaps this man referred to the priceless antiques on board the Hunter, or perhaps he referred to Riddick himself. Either would fetch a nice price from the right people. He didn't know exactly what the Commander meant, but he knew he couldn't play out this charade for very long. He'd be looking to hop the next flight off this place.   
  
"All was lost," he said with a grin. "Now, how 'bout those medical facilities? This leg's pretty tender." He looked down at the blood stained pants hoping the Commander would take the hint and change the subject.   
  
"Ah, yes. Right this way." The Commander and his entourage ushered them down a series of corridors into a very sterile and functional sick bay. Two medics stood ready to assess any needs and were quite awestruck when they saw the extent of Riddick's wounds. Without a word, they went to work, and in no time he was as good as new. Jack and Imam were also checked and given a vitashot to boost their immune systems. All were given a clean bill of health.  
  
The rest of the day continued this way. They were taken to the small mess hall and given all they could eat. And they were assigned temporary quarters until they could find passage elsewhere. Overall, Riddick, Jack, and Imam were given quite a hospitable welcome. It did not bode well with Riddick. In his experience, when someone was 'nice' to you they usually wanted something in return. His companions were oblivious. Imam probably thanked the Almighty for this good fortune, and Jack... she was most likely overjoyed at the attention she'd been given. Perhaps they would be fine when he left. Perhaps they wouldn't, but before he disappeared into obscurity, he needed to make sure no harm would come to them. He owed Carolyn that much.  
  
Even after filling his belly, taking a shower, and donning fresh clothing, Riddick couldn't sleep. His quarters were comfortable enough, and it was nice to lie down on an actual bed for a change. Over dinner, he'd talked himself into resting first and investigating later, but his instincts told him otherwise. He didn't know how much time he had before they discovered his true identity. He didn't want to take any chances. Maybe if he rigged it right, the skiff could get him as far away from this floating hunk of metal as possible. Maybe taking himself out of the picture would make things safer for Jack and Imam. They would only slow him down, anyway.  
  
Plan after plan formulated in his mind as he walked toward docking bay five-two-zero. He'd remain on the LaPage long enough to ensure the safety of Jack and Imam, and then he'd disappear. Of course it wasn't that simple. There'd be many precautions taken before he took flight, one of which being a chosen destination. But enough of that. Right now he had to assess the skiff.  
  
But when he got to the docking bay, someone was already doing just that.  
  
It was the woman he'd seen earlier. Don't she got better things to do?- he asked himself. Only now she had a clipboard and was vigorously taking notes. She checked every nook and cranny with apparent hopes of finding something. Fortunately for Riddick, she was small and alone. He could easily off her, but that would not serve his purposes. Let's find out what she knows.  
  
He watched her sit on the back ramp of the skiff. In the shadows, Riddick slowly made his way to the craft and continued to watch her every movement. She began to read over her notes and made tiny alterations here or there as needed. Without looking, she reached into her overall pocket and pulled out a piece of fruit. Wonder how much that cost. Without a sound he walked alongside the skiff and stopped just out of her line of vision. He waited a few minutes, watching her write, hearing her take bites out of what sounded like a very juicy piece of fruit. Then he spoke.  
  
"Find anything interesting?" She jumped, let out a small squeal, and lost grip on everything she had in her hands. The clipboard went clattering to the floor, and she did a juggling act to save her fruit.  
  
"My God! You scared me half to death!" She had wanted to yell, but it came out more as an elevated whisper. No combat training, he thought.  
  
The corner of his mouth turned up in a sideways smile. "No. Not half to death. I could show you, though." Her eyebrow quizzically went up. She obviously didn't get it. This oughta be fun. She was more than just a little rattled. Nervous maybe. She wasn't supposed to be here.  
  
Rather than making eye contact with this very large man, she stooped to collect her clipboard. Nope. No training at all. Not looking directly at him allowed her to regain her composure. "This isn't the emergency vessel from the Hunter-Gratzner," she said with confidence. She knew who he was, or at least who he appeared to be.  
  
"I never said it was." He was cooler than a Pordavian cucumber, but 'warning' was flashing bright red in his mind's eye.  
  
"Where'd you get it?" She stood finally to face him. It wasn't easy. "What happened to the Hunter-Gratzner?"  
  
"My, my. Aren't we full of questions?" Riddick was rather enjoying this little game of cat and mouse. He was sure it would eventually give him the answers, but until then, it would keep him amused. The woman on the other hand, grew impatient. Her impatience gave her gumption.   
  
"I want to know what happened to the Hunter-Gratzner and her crew. I want to know now."  
  
Riddick chuckled. "And we're demanding, too." She put her hands on her hips and glared. He chuckled even more, but she didn't budge. "And who are you that I should answer any questions?" He gave one last snicker. This tiny woman was quite an entertainer.  
  
"I am Station Liaison Krissa Fry, and I need to know what happened to that ship." Riddick's face lost all expression. The cat and mouse game came to a grinding halt. Did she say Fry?  
  
"You're Carolyn's..."  
  
"Sister. Yes. So you did know her..." Her eyes narrowed.  
  
"You look..."  
  
"Nothing like her. I know. Now do you see why I need to know? Now will you tell me?" There was only silence from Riddick. For the first time, he was at a loss for words. Realization melted her face of hope. She slumped into a pile on floor, buried her face in her hands, and began to weep. Riddick slumped next to her, resting his forearms on his knees. "I knew it. She's dead, isn't she?" she asked thickly.  
  
"Yes," he said, running a big callused hand over his shaved head. "She's dead."  



End file.
